The Scratch
by Muna16
Summary: This is a post-Lucas Huddy short fiction - it will just be a handful of chapters long.
1. Chapter 1

**Ch. 1**

It was a little late for lunch, but the two doctors sat at the PPTH cafeteria, taking a moment to eat and recharge their batteries after what had turned out to be a long day for both of them.

"So, when are you going to ask her out?" the oncologist asked plainly as he smacked his friend's hand away from his fries.

"When are you going to stop offering pieces of your liver to selfish bastards who call themselves your friends but are really just using you for your spare parts?" House retorted, not missing a beat, as he went for the fries again, expertly evading Wilson's swat and stealing a prize.

"Really? You are going to warn me about selfish bastards who call themselves my friends? Are you sure you want to go there?"

House looked up, the comeback line already formed in his mind, but he decided instead to stop deflecting.

"I'm not - the ball has been in her court since the conference - and she decided to volley it to the private dick - so…"

"House, they broke up two months ago. Don't you think it's time-"

"Saved by the midget," House responded, as he watched Taub come hastily towards them.

"The patient went into cardiac arrest, it wasn't bacterial," Taub announced. It had been their third go-around at a diagnosis this afternoon. The patient had presented with classic symptoms for infection. Her vitals had weakened considerably in a short period of time, and naturally, House opted for treatment as a part of his diagnostic process.

"Interesting," House responded, resting his chin on his cane.

Wilson looked from House back to Taub.

"Have you checked her thyroid function?" Wilson asked, trying to recall the list of symptoms House had reviewed with him on the way to the cafeteria.

"We have medical licenses, you know," House snarked at his friend. He looked back towards Taub.

"Foreman's at her house now, and 13 is at her office, checking for toxins," Taub reported, before his boss could ask.

"Well, then," House replied, opening his eyes wide for effect, "they are going to miss all of the fun because it's adrenal - have Chase do a deep tissue biopsy to confirm."

Wilson looked at House and tried to follow his friend's thought process. Usually he could tell when an image or a phrase led him to an idea in regards to a diagnosis, but this time Wilson had no clue as to how House got there.

"Kidney functions were fine on the blood tests," Taub started.

"Yeah, three hours ago," House responded. "That was before the antibiotics you pumped her with for the bacterial infection busted her kidneys." House stood up and leaned on his cane towards Taub, "You can run another kidney panel and have her die while she waits for the results, or do the biopsy and start treatment before she flatlines again."

Taub was off before House had finished the sentence.

House had stolen another fry and dipped it in Wilson's little mound of ketchup before following Taub to the elevator when he heard Wilson call after him, "So, when are you going to ask her out?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Ch. 2**

Lisa Cuddy had finished loading the dishwasher when her sister came up behind her, putting her half-empty glass of wine on the counter.

"So how are you really doing?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.

"I told you Rebecca," Cuddy answered, as she grabbed the glass and rinsed it quickly before adding it to the dishwasher's top rack, "I am fine."

Rebecca followed her into the living room, watching her sister pick up toys along the way and toss them into the playpen. She did not seem to believe her sister, and she watched her carefully for signs of strain.

"You were together for almost a year," Rebecca continued. "It's the longest relationship you have ever had - I've seen you devastated over break-ups after just a couple of months-"

Cuddy turned around quickly, almost exasperated, and exclaimed, "I am telling you for the last time, I am fine."

Rebecca stood by the mantle, turning her attention to pictures of Rachel, while Cuddy sat on the couch and covered herself with the throw.

"So, this is why you left your family to spend the week here with me and Rachel, to check on me?" Cuddy asked.

Rebecca sat by her sister. "Guilty," she said flatly. "I didn't believe you on the phone; it just doesn't sound like you to be okay - to be _so_ okay-"

Cuddy interrupted her. "Look, I pictured how it would feel when it ended with Lucas a hundred times while we were together, and it felt, it _feels_, just like I thought it would."

Rebecca looked at her sister, relieved to finally believe that she was indeed okay and that this wasn't an act. "What do you mean?"

Cuddy pulled her hair back into a ponytail and brought her knees up to her chest. "I mean, I miss the idea of having someone to share things with, the idea that I had a partner to help raise Rachel - but when it comes down to it - it was all just that - an idea."

Confused, Rebecca responded, "But he was here with you, wasn't he? He helped with Rachel. I don't get it."

"He was here, yes. He babysat Rachel. He gave me his attention. But he wasn't a partner. He didn't challenge me. He didn't understand me. He didn't push my buttons. Hell," Cuddy added, "he wouldn't even know where to find them."

At that, Rebecca shot her an all-knowing glance. "You did not just break up with Lucas - a guy who finally put you first - over some ridiculous, wide-eyed romantic notion that something could work out with Greg House?" It sounded more like an accusation than a question.

Uncomfortable with how harshly her sister always judged House, Cuddy got up abruptly and folded the blanket, leaving it on the couch. She stood by her sister and said, "Of course not."

Rebecca seemed satisfied with the response, she got up from the couch and they headed towards the guest bedroom.

"You have to miss the regular sex, though, I was living vicariously through you," Rebecca confessed. "Jeff is always working, always tired," she complained as she opened her overnight bag and looked for her pajamas and bathroom kit.

"Well," Cuddy confessed, "we had sex a lot, but to be honest - it wasn't-" she hesitated, "it wasn't amazing."

Halfway to the bathroom Rebecca turned around. Cuddy was blushing and averting her sister's stare.

"I can't believe this," Rebecca said, her voice riddled with disappointment and concern.

"What?" Cuddy asked.

"This is about Greg House, and that stupid night you spent with him in college - your first orgasm and all of that."

Cuddy sat on the bed as her sister watched her. "_Orgasms_," she said, emphasizing the plural. "And no - it's not about House. We're just now starting be friends again, real friends," she said honestly. "Lucas just wasn't _the one_, and I am not going to settle," Cuddy said simply.

Rebecca sat by her sister and put her arm around her. "If you say so," she said softly, unsettled at her new understanding that deep down, her sister was still in love with House after all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Ch. 3**

It was nearly 4 p.m. when Cuddy made her way back to her office from her working lunch with Board. She was dreading going home this evening, because as much as she loved Rebecca, she was growing tired of her concern and her assumptions about House. As she pushed open the clinic's double doors, she was surprised to spot Wilson at the nurses' station. House was scheduled for hours today, not Wilson.

"Hey, you aren't scheduled for hours until next week," she said. "What are you doing here?"

Wilson looked around nervously, avoiding direct eye contact. He looked towards the files to her right as he said, "They were backed up with patients, and-"

Cuddy looked over to the empty waiting area and back to the nearly deserted nurses' station.

"You are going to have to do better than that, Wilson," she said. "What did House do now? Pawn clinic duty on you so he could take a nap, or watch a soap opera, or-"

"Come on, Cuddy, don't be so hard on him, he just-"

Cuddy held her hand up to silence him as she pulled up the patient log. House had seen over a dozen patients in the past couple of hours. But why was Wilson sitting at the station? She couldn't put it together.

"You have one minute to tell me the complete truth," she said icily, "or you'll be working so many clinic hours in the next few days you won't have time to even fantasize about your neighbor."

Wilson stood up, put his hands in his pockets in a defeated gesture, and spilled the truth.

"The waiting room was filled with patients, and this little old nun, she must be 100 years old - every time the nurses called her name she let another patient go ahead of her. All the while she had this horrible cough, she looked feverish, was visibly having trouble breathing-"

"And you know this how," Cuddy interrupted.

"House paged me once the nurses told him what was going on. We watched it happen, time and time again. It was amazing," Wilson said, growing more excited as he told the story. "It was unequivocally the biggest act of kindness I have ever seen, and she just kept doing it over and over-letting other patients go in front of her."

"And," Cuddy said, knowing her two friends well enough to know there was more going on here than the kindness of an old nun.

"And-" Wilson replied, visibly nervous again, hedging, trying to buy time, "House is seeing the nun now, in Exam Room 2."

Cuddy thought about the situation carefully. She scanned the waiting room again, then the nurses' station, and then the door of Exam Room 2. She headed towards the room, but then unexpectedly turned back around to Wilson, who had believed for a moment that he was off the proverbial hook.

"Spill it Wilson," she said in her most threatening Dean of Medicine voice. "I'm going to find out anyway - what's the bet."

Wilson walked over to her and quietly said, "It's scary you know, how you both think the same way." He decided to give deflection his finest effort, "It makes the casual observer wonder why you both just don't take the risk and see what it would be like to-"

"Wilson-" she said, losing her patience.

"Okay, okay - he owes me $200 if he can't make her kick him out of the exam room and ask for a different doctor. They've been in there almost 15 minutes," Wilson said quickly.

Cuddy sighed, "I'm not surprised, you know, House betting against human decency and kindness - typical." She turned with resolve, took a deep breath and headed towards Exam Room 2.


	4. Chapter 4

**Ch. 4**

Just as Cuddy was about to offer a courtesy knock and bust into the exam room, the door opened. House glanced quickly at Cuddy and then turned his attention back to his patient, who was clearly ready to leave.

Sister Margaret Anne held her prescriptions tightly as she took a step towards the door. Cuddy silently agreed with Wilson that the poor nun looked ancient and terribly sick. As the nun passed by her, Cuddy noticed she was carrying a big brown bag.

Pausing by the door Sister Margaret Anne looked back at House, "Thank you again Dr. House, and may God bless you and all of your work here at this wonderful clinic."

Cuddy's eyebrows went up in surprise when the nun added, "And thank you for these free samples for the shelter. We can really use these Dr. House.".

"Just doing the Lord's work as best I can," House responded, in the kind of unexpected, somber tone that would have made Taub fall on his ass. He gave Cuddy a sly wink as the wrinkled nun walked out of the room.

Sister Margaret looked back at House one last time, clutched her bag of samples, and repeated simply, "God bless you and your dear soul."

Cuddy's eyes widened in disbelief at the notion that House had treated the patient with enough kindness to elicit that type of sincere gratitude. Or perhaps, of course, the nun was a saint and House was his usual, misanthropic bastard self.

"What?" House asked Cuddy innocently as she closed the exam room door behind her.

"You owe Wilson $200," Cuddy stated plainly.

House threw his head back in disbelief. "Wilson is such a girl sometimes - he had to tell you-"

Cuddy stopped him with a shove to the chest. "Tell me, House, did you fail to offend the nun or maybe you didn't have the heart to try," she challenged.

House shook his head and stood a little closer to Cuddy, feeling the electricity of her touch as she pushed him, feeling her presence wash over him in a way it hadn't done in so long. "Wouldn't you like to know," he said, smiling coyly.

Cuddy was a bit shaken by his closeness, but she did not want to let him know she was rattled. "You should know better than to make bets on patient care," she said, in as stern a voice as she could manage, meeting his deep blue eyes with her glassy gray ones.

Noting the game, House took things a step further, inching just a bit closer, teasing, "I seem to remember a certain bet you made in this clinic, Dr. Cuddy, I made quite a mint from you that day, diagnosing patients without touching them."

House was almost touching her now. There was almost no space between them. She felt his hot breath on her cheeks. She did not turn away. She matched his intensity, bit her bottom lip softly, and said, "That was different, House."

"That's the thing with you Cuddy," House said, eye to eye with her, inhaling her scent, desperate to get even closer, feeling the heat emanating from their connection, "you are willing to bend the rules when it suits you."

Cuddy thought his gaze would shatter her. She thought of her sister and how disappointed she would be. She thought about Rebecca's words, _the ridiculous, wide-eyed romantic notion that something could work out with Greg House_. Cuddy had agreed with Rebecca. She had believed for some time that she and House could never have a personal relationship.

Yet, it seemed to Cuddy that at this moment nothing on Earth could really prevent it. Not even Rebecca and her haunting warnings. This thing between them had a life of its own. Their lips were centimeters apart, they could almost taste each other, their tilted heads fitting together like perfectly matched puzzle pieces.

Just then the door whipped open and Wilson said smugly, "I'll take that in $20s."

The spell broken, Cuddy mumbled, "I have a meeting to get to." From the door she barked back at House with recovered confidence, "No more betting on patients."

Cuddy was half-way towards her office when House smacked Wilson on the head with the handle of his cane.


	5. Chapter 5

**Ch. 5**

The team was gathered around the white board in the conference room reviewing the symptoms of their new patient. The middle-aged father of three had just been admitted through the ER, and Cuddy had sent the file up with Thirteen. While the Taub and Foreman argued about edema, Chase watched House cap and uncap the dry erase marker repeatedly. The fact that Cuddy had sent the file up with Thirteen wasn't lost on him. She had been avoiding him since their near-miss in the clinic yesterday. He wasn't sure which hand to play next.

Cuddy knew his delusion had been about her. She knew he had meant to call back in med school. She knew he was ready to pursue a real relationship with her. She knew he had spent the past year trying to piece his life back together enough to earn her friendship and respect. Hell, she even knew her future didn't lie with Lucas. But she was still scared to death of the prospect of him, and he wasn't sure there was anything else that could be done about that.

Wilson wanted him to ask her out, as if a dinner at Bela's would eliminate the memory of her experiences and interactions with for him for the past 24 years. Their relationship didn't need dinner, it needed an exorcism. This kind of disease was beyond his practice, and he knew it.

House snapped himself out of his thoughts as he heard his fellows shouting at each other. He slammed the marker down on the table and was about to bark at them when they heard the steady clickity click of approaching heels. The rhythm of the sound filled House with the hope that he was about to see Cuddy walk through the door.

The team turned towards the door, expecting Cuddy to predictably yell at House for the cappuccino maker that had been delivered early that morning. The woman at the door may have looked like Cuddy, and she may have sounded like Cuddy, but she was a couple of inches taller and just a bit fuller around the hips.

"Boys and girls, meet Rebecca Cuddy," House said sarcastically, "the older model of our very own Dean of Darkness."

Unphased by his remark, Rebecca nodded at the awkward chorus of hellos. She cleared her throat and said, "Greg, can I talk to you in your office?"

House limped towards his office and held the door open for Rebecca. Before following her in he tossed the marker to Foreman, "I want two viable ideas on the board when I get back. One I will mock profusely and the other had better fit."

Safely in his office House stood in front of Rebecca and studied her intently. She returned the glare.

"Look Greg, you and I have never gotten along."

House cocked his head to the side and waited.

"It's not personal, it's just-"

House continued to wait. He couldn't imagine a single reason for Rebecca Cuddy to be standing in front of him. He didn't have a clue.

"Damnit Greg, you seem all cool, brooding like Heathcliff and all, but I need you to stop screwing with my sister. Catherine dies at the end of the story," she stammered out helplessly.

House chuckled loudly. "Rebecca, I don't know what the hell you are talking about. I didn't major in English - I went to med school - the only Heathcliff I know is the wisecracking cartoon cat."

Rebecca swallowed hard and continued, "I think you know exactly what I am talking about."

Quietly, House whispered, "I am not screwing with her."

Rebecca paced the room back and forth, almost as if she were trying to decide what to say next.

"Greg, when you went to Mayfield, she-" Rebecca stopped herself from revealing more.

"She what?" House asked.

"No- Nothing," Rebecca said, turning towards the door.

House grabbed her by the arm. "What? What happened when I went to Mayfield?"

"Forget it. Please, Greg," Rebecca pleaded, "if you care about her at all, just stay away."

Rebecca wiggled herself loose from House's hold and stormed out of his office, crossing Wilson as she left. House followed her out to the hall.

Bewildered, Wilson asked, "Was that Cuddy's sister?"

House nodded, looked at his friend for a moment, then back through the glass at his team. He could see they had two ideas up on the board - lupus and hemochromatosis.

"Whoever put hemochromatosis up there is an idiot," he said, under his breath, as he headed back towards the conference room, leaving Wilson in the hall, even more confused than before.


	6. Chapter 6

**Ch. 6**

Chase and Foreman were discussing therapeutic phlebotomy as a treatment for hemochromatosis when House returned to the conference room.

"She looks so much like Dr. Cuddy," Thirteen said, trying to get a reaction out of House.

"Too bad for you they both prefer sausage," House snarked, adding, "and why are you idiots talking about therapeutic phlebotomy?"

Foreman responded, "It's the first-line treatment - unless you want to start with a liver transplant - don't think Cuddy would approve."

"It might be the first-line treatment for hemochromatosis," House said dryly, "but it isn't going to do a thing for our patient's inflamatory bowel syndrome."

The fellows all looked towards their files to see what they had missed. Sure, lupus was on the board as a joke - but they had all agreed on hemochromatosis.

House shook his head in exaggerated disappointment. "Patient reported a bloody stool the first time he went to the doctor for the abdominal pain," House said, almost sounding bored.

"There it is," Taub said, finding it in the history. "Not iron," he said, getting up.

"We'll start him on immunosuppresors," Foreman conceded, after a loud sigh, heading out the door with the team. He hated it when House was right, especially when he was right with so little effort. It pissed him off every day that House's genius was wasted on such an insufferable bstard.

What the team didn't know is that their boss had figured out the diagnosis a long time ago, he had actually been teaching, trying to get them to the answer. His fellows were brilliant doctors, but they still sometimes overlooked important details.

Now, though, he was working on a new puzzle - one without an easy answer and one that nobody could help him with. He needed to figure out what had happened to Cuddy while he was at Mayfield. He wasn't sure where to start. He headed back towards his office, sat at his desk with his red and grey ball, and started to toss it in the air.

He replayed the conversation with Rebecca. She had said, _when you went to Mayfield, she_…she what? He thought about Rebecca's expression. She was afraid for Cuddy. Whatever happened all those months ago, it had scared Rebecca. He thought about Wilson - Wilson obviously had no idea. He would have told him when he first moved in with him after Mayfield if something had happened to Cuddy. Besides, House thought, if I talk to Wilson about this he will only consider it proof positive that I am in love with Cuddy. He wouldn't give Wilson that satisfaction. He couldn't even stand to imagine the smirk that would have formed on Wilson's face if House had asked him about it.

He thought for a moment about storming into Cuddy's office and asking her about it. After all, her sister had stormed into his office and ruined his day with this unsolvable puzzle. But he imagined Cuddy's response, her deflection, her walls going up higher - walls that had come so close to coming down in the clinic yesterday. If Cuddy wanted to share this with him she would have. She would have done it a long time ago. It had been almost a year. She has had plenty of time.

House's mind was working on the puzzle the rest of the day. He broke into the hospital mainframe and checked Cuddy's appointments for May of last year. He looked at Board meeting minutes. Nothing had seemed out of place. He was riding his bike home to the studio loft he shared with Wilson when he noticed a young couple walking down the street, hand in hand. The man was blonde; the woman had long dark hair. The epiphany came quickly. He knew what to do.

Chase was surprised to find House at his door.

"What? Do you need a Wilson replacement again?" Chase asked, referring to the last time House had shown up at his door to take him bowling.

"No," House answered, "I need to look at your wedding album," he said, as if it had been the most natural request in the world.

"What makes you think I kept it?" Chase challenged.

"Cameron wouldn't have taken the album to Chicago because she wouldn't want the reminder of her failure, or of her ex the murderer, and you wouldn't have thrown it away because you are such a sap you still think she might come back," House stated plainly.

Chase, still standing at the door, asked only, "Why?"

House didn't answer, but the crease on his forehead and the fear in his eyes told Chase it was important. He left the door open for House and he headed towards the hall closet and pulled the album off of the top shelf. "Here, knock yourself out," Chase said, as he dropped the album on the coffee table and headed towards the kitchen to collect a couple of beers.

House looked through the album, picture by picture. He studied every picture of Cuddy with intensity. He was looking for visible signs of sickness or anything else that might explain Rebecca's comments. All he saw was a beautiful Cuddy, a strikingly beautiful Lisa Cuddy, curls on her face, Rachel on her lap, haunting sadness in her eyes. But, no clues as to what the hell Rebecca had been talking about. House's growing desperation was apparent to Chase.

"You know, if this is about Cuddy's sister, which I assume it is since her visit clearly shook you…most married couples - not that I would know from experience -" Chase stumbled, "they share things."

House could have mocked him again for his failed marriage, and for the irony of Chase offering any kind of advice related to his miserable experience. But instead he found himself resisting the urge to kiss him on the mouth.

"Jeff Bernstein," House said, getting up quickly and grabbing his cane.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi Readers: Thanks so much for your comments….I hope you like where this fic is going. It is a short one - only a couple of chapters to go.**

**Ch. 7**

Cuddy had finished paying for her salad when she spotted Wilson sitting by himself across the cafeteria with his nose in a hematology journal.

"Where is your lunch leech"" she asked, trying to sound sarcastic and annoyed, when truthfully she was just curious. She had not seen House all day - even when she purposefully walked past diagnostics on her way to human resources. She had avoided him yesterday, but today she was ready to face him, ready to see where this could go.

"I am not my brother's keeper," Wilson answered, without looking up from the article. They sat in silence - Cuddy grazed on her salad, Wilson drank his coffee. It was clear to Cuddy that he was upset.

"I didn't do anything to him - I haven't even seen him since-"

Wilson put his book down forcefully and looked up at her in disbelief. "You didn't do anything to him?"

Cuddy stammered, "No - we were getting along. I thought we were rebuilding our friendship - we were finally talking easily again and-"

Wilson shook his head. "What about freezing him out when he came back from Mayfield, or leaving him a turkey sandwich at your sister's, or letting your boyfriend trip him in the cafeteria? Do those count?"

"I saved his job. I let him quit and come back and I saved his reputation at the expense of mine," she spat out, her voice was shaky. "You have no right Wilson, just because I didn't jump into bed with him," she added defensively.

Wilson couldn't stand to see Cuddy looking so fragile. He wouldn't have pounced if it weren't for the fact that it bothered him even more to see House looking so hurt. "Cuddy, honestly, I don't know where he is. He left early this morning and I haven't seen him since."

Cuddy nodded and picked at a carrot stick.

Wilson added, "Your sister visited him yesterday," he added as an afterthought.

"What?"

She must have come to the hospital on her way back home after her visit, Cuddy thought, surprised and angry that she had imposed on her turf without even telling her she planned to stop by.

Wilson shrugged his shoulders, picked up his journal and his coffee and headed back towards his office.

House was waiting outside a non-descript office building in Harrisburg, PA. It had taken him a couple of hours to make the drive, and he had spent the time considering the different ways he might get Jeff Bernstein, Cuddy's brother-in-law, to tell him what he knew about Cuddy and what had happened last summer.

Luckily for House, Jeff made it all a lot easier for him. He walked out of the office with a hot young red-head, and he had looked around before giving her a squeeze on the ss as they headed in opposite directions towards their cars. House limped quickly, catching up to him.

"Jeff," House called.

Jeff turned around, not recognizing the voice. The sight of House rushing up to greet him, limping, startled him.

"Dr. House?" Jeff asked, confused.

"The one and only," House responded, offering him his hand.

Jeff shook it nervously and looked around, realizing House had probably seen him with his secretary. He was still wondering what the hell his wife's sister's employee was doing in Pennsylvania.

"What are you doing here?" Jeff asked, "Does Rebecca know you're here?"

"Nope - just a quick question for you and I will be back on the turnpike," House said. "What happened to Lisa last summer?"

"Look, Dr. House, that's none of my business - and if Lisa wanted you to know, she would have told you. I don't see-"

"Jeff - call me Greg. We've met a few times. No need for formalities. Now, the red-head whose ss you just fondled, refresh my memory, is that your wife Rebecca?"

The blood rushed up to Jeff's face as he realized that everything he had ever heard about this crippled bastard was true. "Are you threatening me?"

"You want to check if I am bluffing?" House said, pulling out his cel phone.

"Jesus," Jeff said. "Okay, we came home from having dinner out, me and Rebecca, and Lisa's car was in our driveway. Lisa was in it. She was staring off into space. Rachel was strapped in her car seat, crying."

House's heart began to race.

"She was just out there - almost catatonic - we don't know how long. She was dressed up - had just gone to a wedding."

House was taking shallow breaths. "Go on."

"She spent the weekend with us. She was in bed the whole time, in Rebecca's pajamas. Rebecca fed her and took care of her - she was totally out of it. We had to take care of Rachel. It's like she couldn't even hear her, or us."

The story was killing House. It didn't sound like Cuddy - not being able to take care of Rachel. Not being able to take care of herself.

"And," House said, despite the fear growing in his gut, "what happened?"

Jeff continued, "After a couple of days, when she didn't get better, we had a friend of ours who is a psychiatrist come see her. Called it post traumatic stress disorder. Gave her meds. She got better, and was able to get back to work after calling in sick for a couple of days. She threw herself into her work, and saw the doc a few more times, and then the schmuck Lucas showed up and she seemed fine."

House shook his head, and silently damned himself. "Thanks," he offered quietly as he turned to head back to his car.

"Greg - I told you about Lisa, you won't tell Rebecca, will you? What you saw?"

House didn't look back but he shouted over his shoulder, "Everybody lies."


	8. Chapter 8

**Ch. 8**

The information about Cuddy's breakdown had been sitting in House's stomach and in his heart for the rest of the day. He had returned on Friday night and waited outside the studio apartment until he saw Wilson emerge with his overnight bag and head towards his car. House couldn't be more grateful that Wilson was visiting his brother for the weekend. He didn't want to see Wilson, and he didn't want to talk to him. He didn't want anything, actually, except for maybe some bourbon. Lots of bourbon.

Instead of drinking, he soaked in Wilson's tub and thought about Cuddy. The drive must have irritated the leg, because it was throbbing. _What the hell - he thought - how could Cuddy, Lisa Cuddy, have suffered breakdown like that. How? The woman was as tough as they come. Hadn't she stood up to the Board and to Volger? Didn't she lie on the stand during the Tritter trial? Didn't she negotiate a ridiculously lucrative deal with the biggest insurance company in the state?_

He rubbed his thigh more.

_Am I the reason she crumbled? Am I really that toxic, that I could take the strongest woman I have ever met and render her to mush - so much so that she was unable to care for her kid? Her kid she had struggled to have and who meant the world to her? Her kid who now defined her?_

_Where was Wilson when all of this happened? She missed two days of work - she called in sick two days in a row. Wilson didn't notice? I would have_, House thought, _except I was detoxing at Mayfield at the time - my drug problem, my hallucinations, my delusion - not only am I so toxic that I sent her into a tailspin, I am so weak I couldn't help her get out._

_Damnit_, he thought, closing his eyes. _When I get my hands on Lucas - I mean - what kind of sick bastard takes advantage of a woman when she is down like that? "We'll see who gets there first."_ House remembered the challenge Lucas had thrown down that night they played the blues together in his old place. He had thought about that night often over the past few months, believing that while Lucas had gotten there first, he might be the one to actually keep her.

But now, all he could think was that Cuddy was better off without him. _All I have done is hurt her._ He thought about the time he told her she would suck as a mother, the time he fondled her breasts in his conference room when she had asked for a kiss, the time he told her to suckle her bastard child…He closed his eyes and tried to breathe through the pain_. I have always hurt her - but the time I hurt her the most was when I was actually trying to make myself better for her. I had gone to the psychiatrist in New York and I had tried the methadone to get off the vicodin. Even when I was trying to love her I sank her - and she doesn't deserve that, _he thought, cursing himself and his luck. _We had come so close in the clinic the other day._

He realized the water in the tub had cooled, and he was actually chilly, so he carefully lifted himself up, swearing at the stinging sensations emanating from his leg. He got ready for bed, but he knew there would be no sleep - only pain. His thoughts revolved around Cuddy, bourbon and vicodin - three things he couldn't have. Three things he shouldn't have. Instead, he cursed himself and kneaded his leg.

_That's it,_ he thought. _I'm done. I can't do this anymore. _He put on his jeans and grabbed his jacket. _Damn Wilson for not keeping hard liquor in their bar. They probably had the only fucking bachelor pad in the state with a dry bar._ He grabbed his keys and limped towards the door - sure that he would fall off the wagon on this miserable night. He still hadn't decided if he was hitting the liquor store down the street or heading back to his apartment to look for vicodin, but he had decided that while he would not be able to have Cuddy, he was at least going to get rid of the pain.

He opened the door and saw Cuddy standing there - looking a bit lost. She had been confident when she left her house. She knew there was so much she needed to say to him. But when she got to his door she had lost most of her courage and she had stood there, trying to regain it.

"Where are you going?" she asked, surprised to see him ready to head out past midnight on a Friday night.

"What do you want?" he said, leaning heavily on his cane, the pain was so bad it was making him nauseous.

"Let me in," she said, "you're in pain. I'll make you some tea."

He thought about saying something awful to her; he had the insult for Rachel prepared in his mind and ready to go, but he figured he had done a lot of work in the past year with Dr. Nolan, and he should be able to get her to leave him alone without tearing her down in the process.

"Cuddy - I am begging - just let me go," he said softly.

She walked into the apartment and closed the door behind her. She understood the double meaning of his supplication, yet somehow, she managed to summon the strength to keep herself calm and her voice steady.

"I'll let you go, House, but first we have to talk."

"We have nothing to talk about," House said.

"Wilson said Rebecca came to see you."

"Yeah, a real ray of sunshine, that one."

"Whatever she told you, forget it."

"She didn't tell me anything, and I think we both need to forget it."

Cuddy took a deep breath, knowing this might be it - this might be their last chance.

"Why?"

"Because in the end, all we do is make each other suffer," he said, rubbing his leg, still feeling the aching tenderness in his thigh.

"So that's it, you aren't even going to try?"

"It shouldn't be this hard. It wasn't this hard for you and Lucas."

"You're right - that was easy."

"Then go back to him."

"It was easy, but it wasn't right. It wasn't close to right," she admitted solemnly.

"At least he didn't drive you to the edge of madness."

"Maybe, but he didn't drive me to the edge of happiness either." Cuddy stepped closer to him, feeling his warmth and his fear.

"No - it's too late," House whispered, leaning in. His proximity made her shiver. He outlined her chin with his thumb. "The answer is no," he said, sure there was no going back.

"House-" Cuddy began, meeting is stare, her bottom lip quivering.

He moved past her and opened the door before he could change his mind. "You can tell your sister that Heathcliff is done. Catherine is safe."

Cuddy stepped towards him, "Wuthering Heights?"

"That or cartoon cats."

"Well, obviously, you haven't read it," she said, walking past him and out the door. He closed it quickly, doing everything in his power not to come after her.

She stood on the other side of it for a while, wondering how it was that she had let him shatter her heart again. It was like the time he had given her the desk, filling her with the hope that he could be who she needed, only to steal that hope away again as he left with a hooker for the night. It was like that but different, because this time Cuddy knew he was pushing her away to protect her. She wondered if that's what he had been doing all of these years.


	9. Chapter 9

**Ch. 9**

Not being an addict, Cuddy afforded herself the luxury of a glass of red wine with her hot bubble bath when she got home that night. The babysitter had left, Rachel was safely in tucked in bed, sleeping soundly, and Cuddy's mind was racing. She wanted to blame her sister, but the truth was, her sister hadn't kept them apart for all of these years. They had managed that all on their own. They had been so close in the clinic a couple of days ago. One step forward and two steps back. House was probably right - they both needed to forget it - this dance couldn't go on forever.

Cuddy tried to keep busy on Saturday morning, despite the fact she had barely closed her eyes the night before. The few minutes she did sleep she had dreamt that she was walking down the aisle at her wedding, focused entirely on her groom - Gregory House. Wilson was standing next to him, looking just as proud as he could look, and House looked absolutely perfect as he waited patiently, smiling at her with a look that said I can't believe we are finally here. When she reached the altar and they joined hands and turned towards the justice of the peace, something felt strange about is touch. His hand didn't cover hers in the way it normally did, and it was cold and clammy. When she had turned to look at House again, she saw it was actually Lucas standing there holding her hand. She had had awoken after the fitful sleep drenched in sweat.

How was she supposed to manage now? She refused to call her sister - an "I told you so" was not what she needed. Besides, this was not they type of thing her sister had been afraid of with House. She had been afraid he would hurt her in the ways he had done before, with his cold-hearted rejections, deflections and denials. What House had done last night, Cuddy knew, was almost heroic. Maybe she could deal with that. Maybe she could accept that. Now at least she was sure that House loved her. Maybe two people can love each other, can love each other truly, madly and deeply, and still not be able to be together. This was her realization - and while it was sad, horribly sad - she found comfort in their new understanding.

It was late Saturday afternoon when Cuddy arrived home with Rachel from a playdate to find House sitting on her porch. He could have easily waited for her inside, using the key under the flower pot, but after their conversation last night that just didn't seem right.

Rachel was asleep in Cuddy's arms, tired out by the afternoon at the park. As Cuddy neared the front door House took the keys from her hand, opened the door for them, and watched as Cuddy disappeared into the kid's room with her. In a few moments, Cuddy emerged from the room, and noticed House looked like bloody hell.

"Is the pain still bad?" she asked, feeling the dread come over her quickly. She was afraid his blood-shot eyes meant he was back on Vicodin, or worse.

He limped towards her slowly, ignoring her question, waving a book in her face. "I looked up the Cliffnotes online last night. Did you know Cliffnotes are online now and free? And they still sell them at the bookstore, which doesn't make sense. What moron would buy them?"

"What?" she asked, flustered at his rant, hoping he was here for more than a book club.

House summoned the courage to go on. This whole thing was going to be entirely up to her, and how much she could open up to him, how much she trusted him - but he wasn't going to walk away from the possibility of something until he was sure he had to. He had been up all night, reading, and had spent post of the day reading. His leg still hurt like hell, but the distraction of the book had proved useful and kept him from his usual self-loathing, and more importantly, from his usual dself-destruction.

"I looked them up - then I bought the book this morning. I read it. The whole thing. Not bad for chick lit," he said, holding it up Wuthering Heights for her to see, taking another step towards her.

"I know," Cuddy said nervously. She waited, biting her lower lip, wondering what he would say next.

"It turns out, Catherine didn't die because of Heathcliff," he said, almost sounding relieved.

"I know."

He took another step towards her, closing the space between them.

"She dies in childbirth, after marrying someone else - because even though she loved Heathcliff, she thinks he will be bad for her, she thinks he can destroy her, yet she dies after picking someone safer."

"I know."

"Your sister is an idiot," he said, taking another step closer, feeling his heart rattle in his chest.

"So are you," she said, challenging him, believing her knees were sure to give out.

"Are you going to tell me what happened last summer?"

"You already know."

"But I need to know why," he mumbled softly, so close to her now that he towered over her. Her hair smelled like vanilla. He wanted so much to hold her. But he couldn't, not yet - maybe not ever.

"I - since the infarction - I have spent my entire career protecting you, trying to take care of you," she swallowed hard and looked for the right words, "and it was all for nothing because I didn't see what you needed when you needed it most," she said, tears beginning to accumulate in her eyes. He cupped her face with his big hands, willing the tears not to come down - he didn't know if he could bare to see her cry.

"Ssshhh," he said, holding her face tenderly, tapping her forehead with his.

She continued, "I gave you Ambien, with your vicodin abuse and drinking - that's practically malpractice. I walked out when you tried to-"

He pulled her into an embrace. "I had been so horrible to you," he interrupted, losing himself in her hair, "to you and the kid. You had every right to walk-"

"And after, after you came back I thought you would be better off without me, your recovery would be more secure, and I was afraid for Rachel, I needed to be able to take care of her," Cuddy finally finished, placing her face tenderly on his chest.

House pulled back from the hold and met her eyes once again.

She ran placed her hands gently on his chest. She inhaled, and exhaled. She knew this was it. She thought of all their near misses over the past couple of years. She thought of the way she was always afraid to take the first step. She knew now that by pushing him to make that first step, she had caused him to negate and deflect. She needed to be strong, and she needed him to see that she was, indeed strong, that he couldn't break her even if he tried.

"I, I want to kiss you," she said, her courage nearly faltering.

House leaned down and waited for her lips to meet his. The moment it took her to reach up seemed like an eternity.

She kissed him softly, barely touching his lips. It was tentative. She was afraid the power of their lips finally touching might cause her to melt away into a big puddle of nothing.

"This book, Wuthering Heights, it has a sad ending," he said, lowering his head again and brushing his lips against hers. He was careful not to let it linger. It was cautious. He was afraid she would vanish into thin air right there in his arms.

"I know, but it is still the most passionate love story ever written," she said, tracing his stubble with her silky fingers.

"Even if it has a sad ending?" Her hands were back on his chest. He covered them with his.

"Why worry about the ending," Cuddy said, placing a trail of kisses on his neck, from his Adam's apple up to his chin. She was losing her timidity.

A soft moan escaped House's mouth as he felt the sensation of Cuddy's lips on his skin. "I will hurt you again," he said, "I won't want to, but I will," he said moving his hands to her back, rubbing the small of her back, kissing her from her cheek to her ear. He was gaining certainty.

"We will hurt each other," she said, "it's what we do," she added, going back to nibbling on is neck.

House pulled away from the touching and the playful kissing. He studied her for a moment. Here was the beautiful, strong and fragile Lisa Cuddy, a woman he had wanted so much that the need helped push him towards a nervous breakdown. And here he was, the handicapped misanthropic son of a bitch who led her to her own breakdown. They were both so fragile, both so broken.

"You know what's funny - the whole time we have been avoiding this - avoiding us - we have ended up hurting ourselves and each other anyway."

House chuckled, understanding what she meant, but deciding it was not really funny at all - and instead almost tragic.

"At least we should have the fun to go with that," he added, finally grabbing her by the waist and pushing himself onto to her, looking for her tongue with his, exploring every part of her mouth before ravishing her neck with his tongue and his teeth. He held her firmly as he grinded his sex on to her belly, going back to her mouth to taster her again, hungrily feasting on her.

He pulled his tongue out of her mouth and ran it down her neck and to the edge of her breasts. His hands were already there, grabbing and pulling greedily. She gasped and arched her neck back giving him access, running her fingers excitedly through his hair, pulling him closer. He looked back up at her, deep blue eyes on blue grey, both finally alive and filled with fire and hope. He asked, "Are you sure?"

Cuddy didn't answer the question. She only grabbed his hand and led him to her room.


End file.
